


What Tomorrow May Bring

by Unforth



Series: Prompt Fics: Supernatural [73]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Bottom Dean Winchester, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Overstimulation, Period-Typical Attitudes Toward Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plus One Benny Lafitte, Sloppy Seconds, Sub Dean Winchester, Subdrop, Subspace, Suspension, Top Benny Lafitte, Top Castiel (Supernatural), consensual power exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Ficlet written to the prompt: Destiny, Historical AU, consensual power exchange(note that due to the historical setting, no one involved actually thinks of what they're doing using terms like BDSM, or Subspace, or bondage, but...that's what they're doing, so I tagged it as such)
Relationships: Castiel/Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester
Series: Prompt Fics: Supernatural [73]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/708447
Comments: 29
Kudos: 143
Collections: Peeps Prompting Peeps Server Collection





	What Tomorrow May Bring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nickelkeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelkeep/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a three sentence prompt fill.
> 
> Needless to say I think it might have gotten just a smidge out of hand.
> 
> (dear everyone else who sent me prompts today...I in no way promise that all those will get this completely out of hand...I just started writing this, and I was originally going to stop before they actually started fucking, and then I was like...no I really really want the smut...so I made the smut...)

Ropes dug into Dean’s wrists, tugged at his armpits, spread his legs. Castiel’s...no, Master’s, always  _ Master _ at times such as this...private study was a marvel rarely seen in Boston. Most men spoke of a private study and meant a fusty old room lined with polished bookshelves, unread tomes, a bulky desk, and a box of cigars. Master’s study was unique, with hooks mounted in the hand-carved wooden ceiling, ornate curio boxes filled with unspeakables, and custom-designed furniture scattered atop the fine Persian carpet they’d soiled many a time with come.

It was a room straight from Dean’s most desperate, secret dreams, the likes of which he’d never dreamt of seeing in reality.

And to think, months ago when Master had first led him to this inner sanctum, Master had feared Dean’s reaction! As if Dean could do ought but stare with hunger and yearning at the bench for spanking, the cross for whipping, the ropes for binding!

Still, for that, anticipation twisted nerves through Dean’s insides. He was bound, dangling as though in mid-flight, en-netted like a butterfly, blindfolded though he could picture every detail of the room from memory. 

_ I have something for you - a present - but only if you can be very good while I’m gone. Can you do that, pet? _

Waiting was agony. It felt like Master had been gone for days. Dean’s stomach rumbled. His eyes pooled with tears. His muscles ached from maintaining his awkward pose. Beneath his anticipation, a small but growing kernel of shame teased and taunted him. He was his own man. He was Master’s to use, yes, but only within the parameters they’d agreed upon; this long delay went well beyond that, and in the meantime, any member of the household might enter the room and see Dean naked and bound, oiled and prepared.

If his perversions should become public knowledge, he’d be ruined.

_ But Master knows that.  _

Dean had a release pull in his hand - a single hard tug, and the knots supporting him would come undone, and he’d tumble to the ground.

_ He won’t betray me.  _

If at any point, the fear became too great, Dean could end things at any time.

_ He won’t hurt me - except in the ways I’ve agreed to be hurt. _

Of course, if he  _ did  _ give up, if he  _ failed _ , he’d never receive whatever present Master had selected for him.

_ I must trust him...I know he won’t… _

The door opened with a soft click, and a jolt of fear had Dean tense against his bindings. Pain flared through cramped muscles, and a soft distressed noise leaked from him. Anyone could be standing there observing him. Anyone could be responsible for the soft  _ whump _ of footsteps crossing toward him. Anyone could see him exposed, and expose him, and then--

“Shh, beautiful,” murmured Master, and Dean shuddered with relief, tears overspilling his eyes and soaking his blindfold. “I’m sorry that took so long.” Gentle, warm hands touched Dean’s bare shoulder, skimmed over his side, nudged his legs into their original position. “Our guest was nervous about his welcome, and it became essential that he and I have an in-depth conversation about the nature of consent, and the rules you and I have established for your protection.”

_ A guest? _

_ What? _

_ How? _

“Are you ready to see your present?” asked Master.

_ Is it a toy? No, it sounds like a  _ person _ is my present. We  _ had  _ discussed adding another playmate and satisfying master’s desire to play the voyeur, but I never anticipated...surely we’d have discussed such a thing more, I… _

“It’s all right if the answer is ‘no,’ pet,” Master added kindly, ruffling strong fingers through Dean’s hair.

And like that, Dean’s fears eased.

Master wouldn’t hurt him.

Master wouldn’t betray him.

Master wouldn’t bring in someone that Dean didn’t desire, and if somehow he  _ did _ , Master would listen if Dean objected.

“I’m ready,” Dean whispered, throat dry.

With a pleased hum of approval, Master caught the knot on the back of the blindfold and tugged the thick cloth away from Dean’s face.

Eyes watering, Dean blinked away the blurriness left by long darkness until he could see clearly in the faint light. A figure stood hesitantly in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, well-clothed in a tailored coat, skin-tight breeches, and gleaming knee-boots. And his face…

...a well-tended beard, bright blue eyes wide with shock, pink lips slightly agape...

...Mr. Lafitte.

Oh,  _ Lord _ , how Dean had lusted after him, since long before he knew Master.

He never dreamt such a man might be in reach - never imagined him queer, nor a sexual aberrant…

...and yet there he was.

Swallowing hard, Dean stared.

“Do you like your present?” asked Master.

Dean nodded eagerly.

“And Mr. Lafitte...does my pet meet your expectations?”

“He exceeds them, Mr. Novak,” breathed Mr. Lafitte, voice husky. A tingle of desire itched down Dean’s spine and thickened his manhood. “Lord, this is...this is a feast, spread and prepared and ready for me to devour. Are you both sure about this?”

“I haven’t the least reticence trusting you with my treasure,” Master replied with utmost confidence, flaring another burst of warmth through Dean’s chest. 

“And...and Mr. Winchester?” Mr. Lafitte crossed the room and stopped beside Master before Dean. Reaching out, he cupped Dean’s chin and lifted his face so their eyes met. “Um...Dean?” Desire trembled through Dean, drying his mouth, numbing his mind. “Do you desire this...do you desire me?”

“You may answer, pet.”

“It’s like Master read my damn mind, Lafitte,” Dean admitted. Only in this place - only with this men...these men?...could Dean admit such a thing. “Wanted you since the day I met you.”

Lafitte’s pupils went dark, swallowing his beautiful eyes, and his tight breeches couldn’t conceal his desire.

“Formalities complete...shall we proceed?”

“I cannot wait,” said Lafitte.

“Well, Dean is prepared for you, so…”

For an awkward moment, no one moved - the situation too new, too confusing - but then Master stepped out of sight, circling Dean, and Lafitte followed. Neither spoke, and Dean’s tension ratcheted up, wondering what passed between them, imagining how soon he was to finally be rewarded for his long bondage. Each heartbeat felt a lifetime, and it seemed eons before a palm pressed to his buttocks, fingers curled into his crack, his cheeks were spread, and thickness nudged at his hole.

Good  _ God _ , that was  _ large _ . No chance that was Master - Dean had felt Master in his every orifice times beyond count, could have identified Master’s dick within his ass, or his mouth, or in his hand, from amongst a dozen. This was surely Lafitte, and Dean struggled to relax, struggled to breathe and  _ take _ , as he spread, and spread, and erection pushed into him.

_ He’s so big...can I do this? Even if I can, what does Master expect? How can I make him feel good as well? What am I to do? How am I, in all my shameful inadequacy, to be enough for the two most stunning men I’ve ever beheld? _

Master stepped back into view, concern knitting his brow. “Here, pet,” he murmured, settling Dean’s head on his shoulder, “let me ease you.” He wrapped an arm around Dean’s back, breathing soothing sounds into Dean’s ear, stroking down his spine. “Will you breathe with me?” With Master warm about him, confident inhales and exhales guiding him, the ropes supporting him, and Lafitte’s strong hands spreading him, Dean eased.

He’d craved this, truly, profoundly.

But now, he had this.

And he  _ could  _ do this.

Master stepped away.

A firm grip grasped Dean’s hips.

Ropes tugged and pulled at him, sparking pain through fatigued limbs.

Lafitte’s cock filled him to the hilt.

“Are you ready?” asked Master, his brow knit with concern, worry clouding his stunning eyes.

Dean locked his gaze on Master, standing feet away against the wall, and smiled. He never wanted fear to sully that gorgeous face; all he wanted was to be a good pet, and to see Master driven mad with desire - and to in turn be driven mad with desire, for that was surely the outcome if he behaved.

“Speak, Dean.”

“I’m ready, sir.”

“Holy hell, that’s…” groaned Lafitte.

Master smiled, and with the easy, calm command that came to him so naturally, he said, “You may move, Lafitte.”

And Lafitte obeyed.

The first thrusts were slow, timid, dragging taunting pleasure and sparks of pain through Dean’s dangling body. Lafitte was powerful, and sizeable, and the ropes held Dean in ideal suspension, and precisely the right height. The urge to demand harder usage itched at Dean, but he forced himself to patience. This wasn’t his encounter to orchestrate. He had to trust Master. But oh, each slow withdrawal, each grinding thrust, was as agonizing as twine burning at his skin and the strain forcing his hips wide apart. Dean watched Master closely; his clothing was elegant, his hair neatly styled, the fabric of his breeches tenting over his cock.

_ He likes what he sees when he looks at me. _

Master smiled.

_ He likes what he sees when he sees me being used by another man. _

Dean smiled back and broke into a moan as Lafitte drew out of him once more.

_ I can do this, for him and myself. I can take whatever they can each dish out. _

“Use him as you will, Lafitte,” Master advice. 

With a shuddering groan, Lafitte pulled out and slammed back in. The ropes creaked in their hooks, Dean’s body swung forward so hard he nearly tore Lafitte from his body, and a shocked gasp burst from him. Christ, but that felt  _ good _ , and Lafitte didn’t hesitate to do it again - his fingers dug bruisingly hard into Dean’s hips and he pulled Dean back down his thick length. A broken moan shattered out Dean’s lips, as Lafitte did it again, again, again. Pain throttled through him where the ropes dug and twisted; bliss pounded in time to his heartbeat, in time to Lafitte’s thrusts. Tears filled Dean’s eyes as his awareness of the moment began to dissipate. The feelings were too diverse, too intense, for him to focus on anything beyond his body. Still, he needed...there was something he needed, desperately, urgently…

...he forced his eyes open.

Master watched him avidly.

“Sir…” Dean gasped. Another thrust, another, another, burst rapture through him. His vision blurred out, fuzzed by tears and swirling, cascading emotions. That place in him that always sparked the divine felt afire, the pressure against it so sublime Dean thought he might be weeping, his joy overflowed so. But Dean needed to see, needed to speak...clenching his hands into fists, he focused on the pain of strain and rope burns, and looked once more to Master.

His Master, his beautiful Castiel, stood staring as Dean was thoroughly, mercilessly, gorgeously fucked. His eyes were wide, his hair at some point disheveled, his top buttons undone to accommodate his heaving breaths. The flap on the front of his breeches was open, and he stroked, a hand lazily over his cock.

_ He  _ is  _ enjoying this. _

Master met Dean’s eyes, smiled, and said, “You look so beautiful like this, my pet.”

_ Thank God. _

With a deep grunt, Lafitte stretched Dean full again, and liquid beaded on the end of Master’s cock, and with a quavering sob, Dean came, splattering the lovely carpet with his thick white come. His muscles tensed and Lafitte felt even larger within him.

“Oh, Lord…did he just…?” Lafitte groaned.

“He did,” Master confirmed, voice husky. 

“That is…” Another groan, and Lafitte’s movements went uneven, shallow, urgent, fast. “...that is  _ incredible _ , oh  _ wow _ .” And he ground to a halt.

Dean whimpered at the sudden cessation of stimulation.

_ No...I’m fine, I should be fine, I’ve already come, and I’ve brought Mr. Lafitte to climax, and Master… _

Dean blinked away tears, struggled to focus on Master as another shockwave of pleasure and deprivation rocked through him so hard he was astonished he didn’t swing through the air like a pendulum.

_...Master looks… _

Master no longer stood before him.

_...where is Master? _

Another blink, and Master was before him and Dean let go a tense exhale. “Pet, it’s time for you to come down to earth,” Master clasped Dean’s cheeks, stared into Dean’s bleary eyes, his expression searching. “Dean, are you well?”

_ Tell him I’m fine. Tell him that was great. Tell him I’m his pet, want only to be his pet. _

_ Tell him what he wants to hear. _

“Speak to me, please!” Master’s concern was so genuine, his expression so sincere, that the fears in Dean’s heart.

“Need you,” Dean breathed. His voice was hoarse and strained, but truer words had never passed through his lips.

“But you’ve been up so long…” As he spoke, Master took Dean’s hand and rubbed at his numbed fingers; pins and needles tingled agony up Dean’s arm. “It’s not safe.”

“...please…”

Master gazed at him once more, and Dean tried to look obedient, ready, submissive. Moments passed, protracted, endless, as he waited to learn Master’s decision, and finally Master nodded.

“Lafitte, hold him please.”

The two men traded places around him, Lafitte crowding Dean’s front, Master’s hands on Dean’s hips. Lafitte embraced him, nuzzled a kiss against his neck, supported some of his weight to lessen the pressure the ropes placed on his joints. Cock eased between Dean’s cheeks, slid into his body with meager resistance. Dean’s body was loose, stretched, open, glorious; Castiel fit him perfectly and felt like heaven, and Dean felt no shame as he wept with relief. 

“That was fantastic,” Lafitte whispered roughly in Dean’s ear, nearly drowned out by Master’s replete, guttural groan. “You are a dream come true…” Lafitte hesitated, and even with Master thrusting within him, Dean felt like he dangled over a precipice - flew through open air - as he waited to learn what Lafitte wasn’t saying. “...I’ve wanted you for so long…” And again he hesitated, and a hitched, distressed noise burst from Dean.

“Can’t...can’t stop now…” Master groaned, thrusting, and thrusting, and thrusting.

_ No, God no, please don’t stop now! I just need to know...need to know… _

“...such an excellent pet…” Lafitte breathed.

_ Yes! _

A sob of relief burst from Dean, and Master echoed it, working hard into Dean’s limp body. Powerful fingers wrapped around Dean’s cock, teasing him toward a second erection. He didn’t know whose hand it was, and didn’t care - he had Master behind him, and Lafitte before him, and at least for today, he was both of their pets, craved being both of theirs like he craved air. The firm grip stroked him, and another hand grasped his side, and a third curled hot over his taut nipple, and a fourth cradled the small of his back. Every forward thrust from Master pushed Dean against Lafitte’s chest, into Lafitte’s arms. Every pull back swayed Dean against Master’s powerful thighs, pierced Dean through with Master’s cock. Every motion of either man against him sparked euphoria, left Dean floating, weightless, unpained, delighted. He shuddered with overstimulation, leaking whimpers and breathy sighs and squeaky moans into the secluded, heated private study.

“You’re perfect, Dean,” moaned Master.

“...perfect, pet…” Lafitte echoed in his ear.

“...always want to feel you just like this…” The staccato pace of Master’s thrusts was familiar, unmistakable, comforting.

“...so good for your Master…”

“...always,  _ always _ want you to be mine…” Master was coming, filling Dean - filling Dean  _ again _ , Lord, he’d leak their come for hours, feel the echoes of pain in his nethers for days, and he couldn’t wait - craved this, needed this,  _ loved _ this, and--

“...want you to be ours…” Lafitte confessed.

And, burying another sob in Lafitte’s shoulders, Dean came again. Sensation overwhelmed him, blanking his senses, his body as though afire with competing feelings. It was too much, far too much; he wished he could cling, wished he could embrace, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t shift, couldn’t escape. Someone hissed a curse as Dean struggled and cried, and then there was no one before him, no one behind him, only a cruel, neutral touch like a vice abrading his wrists, his ankles, his knees, his shoulders. Cold air enveloped him as his Master...his Masters?...abandoned him, and darkness swamped where, moments before, bliss had elated.

_ Have I failed? Have I done badly? Have I misbehaved? Tell me, Master - help me, please, touch me, hold me, save me-- _

Dean collapsed into a strong embrace as the inhuman touch that had held him aloft disappeared.

_ \--wait...right...I was dangling, I was-- _

“I’ve got you,” whispered a voice in his ear.

“We’ve got you,” added a second.

“That was too much, too soon - I should have known...but enough of that. Carry him to bed,” commanded the first...Master, that was his Master, supporting his back, while Lafitte hefted his legs. They made their awkward way out of the room, down the hall, to the bedroom he shared with Master. A swing and a toss landed Dean on the bed, and for a single bounce of the mattress he was agonizingly alone, but then Master was at his back, holding him, cradling him, supporting him, whispering praise in his ear. “You did incredibly, Dean - we’re done now, and I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere. I swear to you, I will always be here for you, just like now, just like this, all right?”

“And Lafitte?” Dean tried to say, but the words garbled in his aching throat. He wanted to lift an arm, to point. He wanted to open his eyes, to plead with a gaze. He wanted to move, to grab, to take, to beg, but his body tingled with the newness of adequate blood flow and his limbs were ungainly, unresponsive, useless.

“What was that?”

“Lafitte,” he repeated.

“I’m here, Winchester,” Lafitte rumbled. The use of his name, so formal, so distant, was like a slap.

_ Maybe I shouldn’t say...maybe I shouldn’t ask...but I need… _

“Will you stay?” Dean croaked.

Silence and stillness were his only reply.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shame cresting.  _ Why would he stay? Master will stay, but for another to do so - for another to see me as I am, and accept me, and cherish me… _

_...that  _ anyone  _ cherishes me… _

_...does anyone cherish me? _

“Good God and saints above, of course I’ll stay,” breathed Lafitte. “Unless Novak objects?”

“I object to nothing, ever, that will bring Dean comfort and joy,” Master said firmly.

“Thank you, Master,” Dean whispered, wiggling back against Master though the only way they could touch more closely was if Master’s clothing vanished.

“You’re released of your bindings, and your servitude,” said Master gently. “Please, Dean...will you say…”

“Castiel.” The name was a blessing on Dean’s lips, and Castiel shuddered behind him, squeezing him close. 

“Dean, my love.”

The mattress shifted again, and weight settled before Dean, crowding his chest, Lafitte’s musky scent close under his nose.

“This good, Winchester?”

“Dean?” he asked plaintively.

“On one condition…” There was an ominous note in Lafitte’s voice that triggered Dean’s anxiety again, and he prepared for the worst - for Lafitte to be angry, for him to move away, for Castiel to be upset, for there to be consequences for Dean’s simplest request.

When Dean was young, there had  _ always _ been consequences for his simplest request; asking anything for himself has always been too much.

“Please, call me Benny.”

There had  _ never  _ been consequences for Dean’s simplest, most selfish requests to Castiel, and, as Lafitte...as Benny...relaxed against him, Dean knew...there’d never be consequences with Benny, either.

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean sighed, easing against his old love, and his new lover. “Thank you, Benny.”

“Anything for you, Dean,” Dean had no idea which of them spoke, if both of them spoke, if neither of them spoke but the words were loud in his mind thanks to their proximity, their gentleness, their care. “Anything for my...our...precious pet.”

_ Once, I thought I had no future. _

Safe, secure, embraced, adored, Dean drifted into a peaceful sleep, daring to imagine what delights these two dear, precious men would grace him with next

_ And now? _

_ I cannot wait for what tomorrow may bring. _

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on...  
> Tumblr: [unforth](http://unforth.tumblr.com)  
> Twitter: [@unforth](https://twitter.com/unforth) (yes, I'm using twitter now, most of the best MDZS artists are there)  
> Discord: unforth#6748


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